Singer Isn't Staying in Hell
by Ziggymia123
Summary: Post 7.10 Crowley was taking some time off from all of his kingly duties when he runs into his favorite hunter in Hell. Now that just won't do. It even goes against Crowley's moral compass! Oneshot.


**So I read somewhere (I forget where) that a fan couldn't imagine what Crowley's reaction to Bobby's death would be. Needless to say, I imagined it. But a few things I've done to my canon. One, Bobby went to Hell. No, I don't think he belongs there, and I love him to bits, but that's where he went. Two, Crowley's a little protective of the older hunter. Maybe some of Bobby/Crowley themes (and I kinda adore the ship) but nothing explict or anything like that. And I think that's it! Post 7.10, obviously.**

**Warnings: Character Death. **

**Disclaimer: Not mine! I just raid the sandbox. Which is probably a good thing now that I think about it...**

**ENJOY!**

There is little time in Crowley's surprisingly busy schedule for leisure, but the few minutes he can grab here and there are spent walking down the line of souls in Hell. Being the King of Hell is a rather stressful occupation. There's the occasional demon uprising, those nasty Leviathans, and, of course, the actual daily running of the place. It's been easier since he renovated the place, but then that stupid, arrogant angel had to go and screw everything up, and let the Leviathans out to play. The very sound of their name made Crowley scowl in distaste. Troublesome, organized upstarts. It was probably unwise, placing his trust in the Winchesters' hands, but he really didn't have many options. If anything, he could learn what _not_ to do.

But that was matter to contemplate at another time. Right now, Crowley was decompressing. He needed it. And maybe he would even pay a visit to Singer for an update. A small smile crept up on him from the thought of the old hunter's reaction. Most likely he would get iron and salt rounds in the chest for his trouble, but oddly, the King of Hell didn't mind. It was comforting to know that Sam and Dean had at least _someone_ on their side with a bit of common sense. So yes, a visit to Singer would be nice. As soon as he got to the end of the line.

Crowley's pace quickened just a little bit as he hummed to himself some nameless tune that he couldn't really remember. The human souls would glance his direction to see who it was, only to quickly look in the opposite direction. Fear made their thin shoulders go tense as they tried to hug the wall. The sight made the demon grin. Until he was stopped cold when someone looked directly at him and raised an eyebrow.

Even if he didn't have his signature trucker's cap on, Crowley would recognize the soul anywhere. Robert Singer stared at the demon calmly as the latter approached. It was in these moments that Crowley sometimes really, really hated his job. What the hell had Singer done to deserve eternity down here? Or an even better question: Why the hell was the hunter dead?

"So this is Hell, huh?" Singer asked, his voice flat and unimpressed. Crowley forced a cheerful smile onto his face.

"Home Sweet Hellhole," he replied, "Did you finally drink yourself to death?"

"Shot, actually," the hunter replied, "In the head." The line moved up a space, and he moved up along with it. "By Dick." Anger, sharp and hot, ran through Crowley. That bastard! He shot Singer! He actually shot and killed Singer! A small part of him was actually impressed that the Leviathan managed to pull off what so many before him had failed to do. But a larger, more dominant, part was simply furious.

"That so?" he ground out. Singer rolled his eyes and muttered something under his breath that sounded suspiciously like "Demonic idgit." "Well we can't have that now, can we?" Crowley grabbed the crook of Singer's elbow, and pulled him out of line.

"What are you doing?" the hunter asked suspiciously, but followed him without protest as Crowley led him towards the entrance of Hell.

"Sam and Dean, as much as I hate to say it, are the only chance I really have of coming out of this Leviathan mess intact. And, they need you so that they don't spiral into a babbling mess. So you, Robert, are going topside."

"What?" Singer demanded, stopping suddenly, and yanking his arm out of the demon's grip. Crowley sighed.

"King of Hell, remember? I control who stays and who goes. And you are going. Send my regards to your boys, will you?" They were close enough to the entrance that Crowley only had to tap Singer on the forehead, and the soul disappeared in a brilliant flash of light. He could already hear the Winchesters cursing him out. Good, that meant that he didn't screw up.

Grin back in place, the King of Hell spun on his heel, and retreated into the depths of his kingdom, whistling a tune that he still couldn't remember.

**I'm beginning to love writing oneshots. It's kinda worrying. **

**Review pretty please and tell me what you think! : )**


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